Act Of Redemption
by FortruthForlove
Summary: With Harleen Quinzel in mourning, the search for her mothers murderer is ongoing and so is her desire to clean up the overruling insanity of Gotham. Set in the Nolanverse, Pre Dark Knight.
1. Funeral

The rain fell, soaking through the crowd of black cotton and polyester coats. The priests voice could barely be heard over the sound of the minuscule drops hitting the slabs of rock scattered all around and the dark mahogany coffin, lined with brass, which sat in the centre of small crowd.  
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and to honour the memory of Judith Quinzel. It is the death of our friend that has brought us together, but her life that we wish to remember. We are drawn here by our common love, our common respect and our common grief." Sobs accompanying rattling shoulders could be faintly heard from either side of her as she stood with a straight face, the only emotions she felt being anger and regret, which laced her eyes. "This is certainly an occasion for sorrow but may it also be an occasion for thanksgiving because we are thankful for the gift of life and we are thankful that Judith Quinzel lived among us." As he finished, the priest nodded his head lightly and stepped back, lowering the book in his hand after closing it and holding the think leather back against his robed chest. Only then, did a single tear slide down her cheek, shown for only a second before being wiped away by a gloved hand.

She only went to draw out some cash, cash for a nephews birthday card because all she had was dimes in change. But she ended up being one of the three people buried after an explosion went off at the bank, signalling the start of what would end up being a triple homicide and armed robbery. That...that was the sort of news that took years to sink in, never mind a few short days while the police still cornered off the scene. However that phone call felt like it had come weeks ago, the one telling her to come down to the Gotham Police Station because there had been an accident...accident was an understatement.

"Are you okay poppet?" Her dads voice whispered as he leant over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders slowly. Slowly, she nodded her head but made no attempt to move any other part of her body as her eyes watched the coffin being slowly lowered into the six foot deep hole in the earth. "We'll get him, don't worry." Her father spoke again before kissing her on the cheek reassuringly. "He won't get away with this." But he would, there had been nothing left at the scene where the disaster had took place. Not a facial description, not a fingerprint, not a hair. It was like everything melted away. The police could try, but everyone knew that no one would be caught for the crime. The same thing had happened eight months ago, double homicide and armed robbery but the vile, sociopath of a killer was never caught.  
"Officer Quinzel, I'm sorry for your loss." She heard a new, yet familiar voice say as she stayed staring at the same spot. The people around her had began to scatter, making there way to the pub now where a small get together would take place. She found that odd, how people could celebrate death...especially in the same place they celebrated happiness. "How's the kid doing?" The same guy tried to keep his tone hushed up she still heard and turned her head painfully slow.  
"I'm not a child anymore Jim." Harley groaned, speaking for only the fifth or sixth time that day. Her voice was monotone but Jim seemed to force a chuckle though his thin lips.  
"You still are to me Harleen, but I apologise." Jim Gordon bowed his head towards Harleen.  
"Please, you know it's Harley." Harley replied as if she had the phase on tape, it was her go to sentence when things were tense or when anyone ever dared say her full name. Jim didn't reply but nodded again and then looked towards her father.  
"Has there been anything yet?" Don asked, hope filling his words.  
"Not yet Don...but they're still searching. Believe me, were not giving up." Jim Gordon replied, his expression turning hard and professional, it was the same face Harley seen him with every time she visited her father down at the station when she was little.  
"Good. They have to find something, anything." Don whispered, his jaw clenching.  
"We will, in time." Jim said and patted the slightly younger man in the back. The two had joined the force around the same time and because of that, had grew close over the past twenty five years. "Now how about we get going?" He started and Don plastered on a smile, shrugging Harley's shoulders with his arm.  
"Sure. You know Harley, Jim's curious as to what life as a doctor at Arkham is like." Her dad smiled but she had to hold back a groan as her eyes rolled around the room tiredly and the three of them turned to exit the graveyard.  
"Oh yeah." Jim agreed, sounding like he was talking down to a five year old instead of a fully qualified, twenty four year of Psychiatrist. "I've been wanting to talk to you about it for a while now. I heard from Dr Leland that you're one of the three doctors helping to treat Dr Crane." The mention of the ex doctor pulled at Harley's heart strings, it wasn't a topic she liked to think about or go near during a discussion. Jonathan Crane had been a respected member of the Arkham Staff ever since Harley joined the payroll just over a year ago. She even got the chance to be mentored by him, the fact she was now treating him was awful. He was so smart...so inspirational...now he was stored away with the rest of the crazies.  
"Yes, unfortunately so." Harley nodded. "It's a sad case to have to deal with, but it's going well..." She lied, hoping to drop the conversation. In truth, Crane was if anything decreasing further into insanity. He barely talked about anything other than his work with toxins and his research and still showed no remorse for the acts he committed 8 long months ago.  
"Good, you're not finding it too much to handle then?" Jim asked, looking up from the sodden and muddy ground for a split second to eye Harley. "What with all the...extremists locked up in that place?"  
"It can get a little intimidating at times." Harley agreed, nodding along as her fingers fiddled with each other. "But I've always been attracted to extreme personalities as you say. I find it a lot more interesting, talking to them people, than sitting in an office all day reading papers."  
"That's good to hear." Jim smiled lightly when they reached the gate to the yard and stood by the rented black limousine which would take Harley and her father to the local bar near her family home. It was a small venue, intimate, just right for people to come together to mourn and remember her mother.  
"Are you coming to the reception Jim?" Don asked hopefully, leaning against the car door.  
"I'm sorry but I can't, I'm on duty."  
"The position of Lieutenant keeping you busy huh?" Harley's father joked, almost pathetically, but Gordon responded by chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.  
"That and the mobs that swarm this city." Jim nodded. "The sooner Harvey Dent settles into his new position and starts putting his plans into action the better."  
"I agree, but we all know its going to be at least a year or so until then. For the mean time we just have to keep going." Harley looked to her father as he said this and guessed he was talking about both the mob battle and the murder case of her mother. The mob were the most highly expected suspects, and were thought to have been a cause if not the main killers.  
"It's easier said than done." Jim raised his eyebrows pushed the bridge of his glasses higher up his nose. "Anyway, duty calls." He said and stepped towards Harley. "It was nice seeing you Harley, you've grown up a lot." She smiled a small grin that obviously was false and then watched over her father saying a goodbye to Jim before he opened the car door for her.  
"Come on sweetie." He said, nodding for her to climb in, which she did. Afterwards, Don walked around the other side and climbed in once he closed and shook off the umbrella that had been sheltering the two of them from the weather. "You feeling alright Harley?" He asked with worry, rubbing his hand across her knee. "We can go straight home if you want to. We don't have to go to the bar."  
"I...I think I'm going to head home. But you should still go." She began, turning to look out at the streets once the driver started the car and rolled away.  
"I can't leave you alone sweetie."  
"Yes, you can. I have to go back home sometime, I plan on going back to work tomorrow."  
"There is no one forcing you to so soon after..." Don trailed of and Harley sighed loudly.  
"I know but...I have to move on...we have to move on and we both have lives to get back to." Harley said. "The last thing I need right now is to get behind on my cases or loose my job."  
"You won't loose your job Har-"  
"I know...but still..." She shook her head and felt her eyes get glass once more, she couldn't count how many times this had happened over the past week. She never cried, ever...some made fun of her for that fact but the past seven days had brought out all the built up sorrow.  
"If that's what you want sweetheart. I'll ask the driver to drop you off before he goes to the bar."

It was a thirty minute detour for Harley to get dropped off, when she moved out she made sure she was definitely independent by picking an apartment in a whole new district of Gotham. She didn't want her parents to 'drop by' on one of their walks...now she wished she seen them more often. The stiletto heels of her plain black pumps hit each concrete step until she reached her door on the second floor of her apartment block. Inside, the halls were relatively okay, but they were a disappointment after walking through a grand entrance which was the only parts of the building well kept. However she managed to keep her own apartment nice after giving it a good lick of paint and decking in out with IKEA's finest oak items.  
"Home sweet home." She mumbled to herself, her voice hoarse and gravely from the fresh tears and tiring day. She dropped her purse to the floor by the door and then shrugged off her coat, hanging it up while she toed off her shoes. Then she slumped across the small open plan living room/kitchen and went straight to the fridge to pull out a half full bottle of red wine and a glass from the cupboard next to it. After finding a half small bar of chocolate, she then made her way to the couch and fell upon it as if she hadn't rested in days. Which she sort of hadn't, in-between planning her mothers funeral and organising everything and came with death she hadn't even had time to grasp the fact that her mother was gone. Murdered, killed, someone had taken her from them. It hadn't been her time to go but they'd stole her from life and it hurt. Harley was never going to see her mother again...that was something she found very hard to cope with but a healthy amount of red wine fixed that at night. Apart of her couldn't wait to get back to work just so her brain had something to focus on, but if that still didn't draw her attention away from the dark cloud now looming over her she didn't know what else would. But she'd cross that bridge when and if she even came to it.

Gathering the energy to sit up after a few minutes, Harley flicked on the TV but groaned when the news story of last weeks bombing was displayed on screen. Did they really have to still be talking about it? The words 'three victims', 'terror attack' and 'explosives' all stuck in her head as they rolled by the bottom of the screen. Stuff like this wasn't support to happen, only in movies did this sort of stuff take place...when only the famous actors and stuntmen were killed.  
"Gotham police are still looking for the attacker who has yet to be identified, however new evidence emerged when one officer found what appeared to be a calling card in one of the registers at the bank." At this news, Harley's ears perked up and her eyes stared aimlessly at the screen. "A joker playing card, was found, linking this attack to the very similar one on Gotham City Bank eight months ago. This gives the police reason to think it was the same attacker, although it all seems too strange for us to understand." The female reported finished and looked to her co-anchor.  
"A joker card? So a clown is causing all this trouble?" At the sound of their petty laughter, Harley snarled and flicked the channel. Her mother was dead and here they were laughing about it, charming. The world never failed to surprise Harley, some people were just more stupid and selfish then she ever imagined they could be.  
"Idiots." She spat and then found a channel she could deal with, settling with a light comedy as she reached for her briefcase and pulled one of the many patient files out if it.  
"Arnold Wesker..." Harley whispered and crossed her feet where the rested at the other end of the couch. He was one of Harley's more...intriguing patients, one of the reasons being that he only ever communicated with her through the use of a dummy. Take his puppet away and he was virtually a mute, diagnosed with multi-personality disorder he was really just an unstable man who had been forced through a bad childhood in the mafia. It was sad how much those people had effected the city and how many people in Arkham could be related back to the mobs. A lot of Maroni's men took up the C wing of mentally unstable but non dangerous criminals however Harley's sensed they were actually quite sane but had weaselled their way into light punishment and the strong possibility of being released after rehabilitation.  
"Assholes, the lot of them." Harley growled and then threw down the file when she failed to be able to read a straight sentence. Her father had told her about the act Harvey Dent intended to put into action now he he had been named the new District Attorney of Gotham and she couldn't wait, if he did what he promised and it worked, Gotham would be looking t no more mobs and no more terrorism. It was a lot to ask, especially of one man but everyone was hopeful including Harley and the whole of the Gotham Police Department. It would undoubtably Magellan their lives easier...it was just sad that is hadn't happened sooner before this 'Joker' guy had managed to take her mother from her.


	2. Back To Work

"Good morning Dr Crane." Harley smiled kindly, stepping through the door to his cell to see him unsurprisingly tied up to his bed as always. He was considered as 'highly dangerous' by the asylum and spent a lot of the time sedated even if it was unnecessary. One thing she realised about this hospital was that is wasn't always run the best it could have been. The guards could be overly violent and pushy towards patients and mocking towards doctors. And the doctors were the worst of all by prescribing too high a doses of medication and trying anything to get a patient off their case and closer to being someone else's problem. It was like they came to work here because they were too lazy to find another job, most of the people here swanned by not giving a second glance to the the people who really needed it.  
"Dr Quinzel." Jonathan seemed to smile as he answered in a raspy voice, his eyes narrowed. Taking a deep gasp, Crane closed his eyes momentarily and then looked to Harley again making the simple act seem like such a huge effort to complete. "It's nice to see that you have returned." He chuckled once and then settled into his sleepy state.  
"I couldn't seem to keep myself away from here." At hearing this, Crane smiled again and shuffled in his restraints. "Not for too long anyway."  
"You deserved a break...especially from these other doctors." Dr Crane moved his eyes towards the small window in his cell door and glared hatefully.  
"Thank you, but I'm back now and ready to get to work." She smiled but deep down, had to admit that she agreed, overall Harley could probably cope with the patients a lot longer than the doctors.  
"Now that is not such good news." Crane groaned and rolled his head around aimlessly. He knew better than anyone how much of a chore therapy could be, but at least he was never abusive toward her like other patients were. In one session, a patient had described how he wanted to pop the eyeballs out of her head because they'd taste good...that had spooked her more so than some horror movies but with Crane she was safe. At least she felt safe.  
"Let me guess, you don't feel like talking today either?" Harley sighed. "Dr Williams told me how you refused to speak to anyone in the past week."  
"I had my reasons. I wanted a rest break." Crane looked to be smirking before he let his chin fall down to rest on his chest, like he couldn't be bothered to hold his own head up anymore.  
"Okay, well break time's over professor, you're going to talk to me today." Harley couldn't help but smile slightly as she walked neared to her ex-colleague. There was always going to be that string of familiarity between them, nothing could change that. In some ways, Harley would never be able to look past him as once being her boss...even on the occasions when he would cower in the corner of his cell muttering words on fear and death. It was still unclear what had caused the break down of Dr Jonathan Crane but Harley intended to find out although it was proving to be a slow process.  
"I couldn't think of anyone better to spend the morning with." His eyes narrowed giving the impression he was being sarcastic but his smile looked genuine, he was a hard one to read but at least he wasn't too violent. "But do I have to be confined to this degree?"  
"Due to recent behaviour, yes." Harley answered easily. "You know yourself how you have to act to get the jacket off." Crane didn't have a reply to that but simply stayed  
"Okay, so. let's get you out of here. I'll expect you in the next couple of minutes." Harley muttered quietly and turned slowly to leave the cell, nodding for the two orderly's to fix Crane up for therapy as she did.

"Ahh, Harleen, I was hoping to catch you some time today." The sickeningly sympathetic voice made Harley's stomach turn as she stopped dead in the middle of Arkham's low security wing. She had to come down here to pick up a few files for Crane from another Doctor and had tried to be quick about it because this was where Dr Arkham's office was and he was the last person she wanted to see, let alone speak to right now. But, luck was against her, as now all Harley could hear over the hum of near neon light above, was the sound of his loafers padding against the floor. "Are you settling in alright, we weren't expecting you to be back at work so soon?" As always, Jeremiah Arkham was barely giving her the space to say a greeting in return before he continued to babble on. Turning around, Harley put on a fake smiled and slapped her hands agains her thighs cheerily.  
"I'm fine Dr Arkham, glad to be back." 'Glad' may have been a slight exaggeration but it seemed to please the boss as he smiled while coming to a stop in front of her.  
"Are you sure?" He said anyway, as a show of kindness.  
"I'm sure, now if you'll excuse me I have a session with Dr Crane to attend." Harley's patience never lasted long when Jeremiah was involved, she didn't know how she lasted through meetings with his. He was so boring and dull...and there was a distance about him which is probably why most of his patients appended up being re-admitted after release. He didn't try to connect and understand, only diagnose and quickly fix through drugs.  
"Ah yes Crane, he agreed to a session today?" Arkham asked with a slight sneer. "You seem to be his favourite, won't talk to anyone else I send him." Harley didn't know how to reply to that assumption. She guessed there was a little favouritism aimed her way but that may be because she still respected him where as other therapist and doctors didn't.  
"He probably has his reasons, we all have our presences after all." Harley shrugged and looked down at the files in her arms. "Now, I really must be going, I don't like to keep patients waiting."  
"Alright Harleen." That was the most irritating factor tone doctor, he refused to call her by anything other than her full legal name. "If you ever need to talk or have an afternoon to yourself. You know where to find me."  
"Thank you, I'll remember that." With a final nod of her head, she turned back towards the elevators and practically had to stop herself running away. Having a boss you hated was a chore especially when they thought they were the high and nightly god of the business. Jeremiah was under the delusion that without him the asylum would be corrupt and fall apart but she always had the suspicion that if he was to go, this place would be allowed to build towards success. However, shaking him from her head, she watched the numbers on the small LED elevator screen climb higher until it reached the fifth floor and the doors opened. From here, she could already see the two guards stood outside the therapy room, one on each side, which Crane was now occupying. She smiled as she approached them and opened the door, stepping through before shutting it behind her, allowing the latch to click. Locking doors was necessary at Arkham for health and safety reasons. You're probably thinking that sounds twisted as anything could happen in that room and locking makes it harder for the guard to get in but this also meant that it was harder for the patient to escape and Dr Arkham would rather have a dead therapist than an escapee.  
"It's been 37 minutes Dr Quinzel..." Jonathan Crane trailed off with his back to Harley, the straight jacket keeping him too restrained to be able to turn his head around so far. The sound of her heels hitting the ground was then the only sound before she walked into his line of site and pulled the chair back from the desk making the legs squeal along the ground. Harley noticed Dr Crane cringe at the noise and held back an amused smile as she took a seat. The therapy rooms weren't the best at Arkham due to low funding and the act that most furniture was abused and broken by the people who held residency here. They were all identical too with the walls being made out of grey breeze blocks, coated in thick cream paint which was chipped in some places. Then in the centre of the room, a cold hard metal table was screwed and secured to the concrete ground, the only other items were a security camera in the left hand corner by the door and two small wooden chairs, only one of which was secured down incase the patient got any ideas. But the thing that stood out most in the room, was the large glass sheet looking like a dull mirror which was installed in each room should an evaluation or questioning be in order.  
"I apologise for my tardiness." Hrley chuckled and arranged the files out in front of her. "You were more of a bother last week that I thought."  
"According to who?" Crane asked, his eyes also flicking over the papers.  
"Dr Leland...and Dr Arkham." She answered in a hushed voice, picking out one paper from the stack which noted some behaviour before stuffing the rest into the file.  
"Ha, you know as well as I do that they like to dramatise things a little too much." Crane smiled widely and looked up to her face, studying her reaction. "But then who am I to talk?"  
"Whatever you may think...there is still no reason to scare the nurses when all they are doing is trying to feed you." Harley shook her head, the smile no longer there. "Was there a main reason to your threats? Did anything happen to anger you?"  
"Well...you weren't here and the reason for you not being here unsettled me." The muscles in Crane's neck jumped as he thought, causing his left eye to squint. "Your mother was a good person Harleen."  
"Thank you." She bowed her head but said nothing more. Harley didn't feel it was highly professional to talk about her personal issues during a therapy session, no matter if it was with Professor Crane.  
"He goes by the name of the Joker don't you know." Crane spoke again, sitting up straighter in his chair as best he could with the jacket on. "I've heard the nurses talking."  
"I know, no guessing this is where he'll end up when they catch him." She muttered, whoever had a gimmick and a gun on them seemed to end up here, sane or not.  
"If they catch him." Crane smirked and silence fell.  
"I don't want to talk about me anymore." Harley said through a straight voice, clicking her pen on the desk and opening her notebook especially designated to 'The Scarecrow'. "Have you had anymore deluded thoughts or...hallucinations of any kind?" The therapist asked while chewing on her lips, when he didn't answer she looked up and seen Crane with dead emotion on his features.  
"No." He answered slowly.  
"Okay...any recent though about what we touched on last time we spoke?"  
"No." He answered again.  
"Do you want to try talking about your childhood again?" Dr Quinzel asked, trying once more while attempting to keep the signs of timidness at bay.  
"I wouldn't be open to it." Crane replied and rolled his eyes around the room.  
"Then is there anything you are open to talk about in this session?"  
"How long have I been doing this?" He asked, ignoring her own question.  
"Doing what? Therapy?" Harley quirked an eyebrow and fought to get her head around the date. It was early February and Crane had been omitted to Arkham Asylum in late June last year, making it just short of eight months he had been here. "You've been a resident-"  
"You mean a crazy." He interrupted. She watched him for a second but then shook her head and continued on.  
"A resident, for eight months. But receiving treatment for six months." Dr Quinzel said after looking back in her journal at the date for the notes on the first therapy session he had with Dr Arkham himself.  
"Six months? It feels a lot longer that." Crane groaned and dropped his head back so his eyes stared up at the ceiling.  
"Maybe these hours would pass quicker if you talked." Harley smiled but only received a scowl from him. "It was only a suggestion."  
"I like you Harleen." Crane then smiled lightly. "I hope they catch that guy...for your sakes." They were going around in circles again, like they did every time. He wasn't willing to talk, he was more willing to listen, but she was the one being paid to do that.  
"Thank you, but once again I don't want to talk about it." Interrupting her again, Crane went to speak but jumped when a loud buzzing sound struck the room and then the door opened, unlocked from the outside.  
"Sorry to interrupt Dr Quinzel but there's something in the news Dr Arkham thinks you should see." A nurse, normally stationed at the medical office downstairs gasped, leaning upright against the door frame. In the corner of her eye, Harley seen Dr Crane grin while studying her face of confusion before he grumbled under his breath.  
"Seems as though you'll have to take about it soon." She could here the smooth rumble in his chest as he spoke.  
"What is it?" Harley asked, trying to ignore him.  
"The police...Lt. Gordon is making a statement...they think they've caught the Joker." The nurse gasped, her gaze flashing between the Doctor and the ever curious Scarecrow.  
"Really?" He bellowed, his voice suddenly echoing off the solid walls.  
"We'll have to cut this session short today Crane." Harley said slowly, only meeting his eyes in the very last second. "I'll organise another session for you tomorrow."  
"Don't worry about it Harleen." He nodded and then tried to stand as the orderlies filed in to take him back to his cell and Harley fled the scene to follow the nurse to the main office.  
"There has been another attack on Gotham by a man we are calling the 'Joker' at present. He has yet to be properly identified as the suspect for this third crime but there is sustainable evidence tiring him to his previous profile."  
'The calling card, that damn playing card.' Harley thought as Jim Gordon stood on screen looking more defeated than when she had seen him yesterday at the funeral. He was surrounded by flashing camera bulbs and microphones but none of that affected him. "This time, a bomb stuck a restaurant in downtown Gotham, taking five lives. This totals at ten victims already and the Gotham Police advise that if the public see anyone acting suspiciously, to contact us straight away." Jim continued. "Once again, based on eyewitness statements, the suspects dresses in a green and purple suit and wears a mask of make up relating to his alter ego, Joker." After that, the clip finished and the report went back to the studio where two news anchors sat to fill in the missing details of the attack. But when this came on, Harleen looked away and focused on the worn away carpet under her feet. They still hadn't got him, that's all she needed to know from the report. What the hell were the police doing to let him get away from a major crime scene three times. This guy had been on the run for eight months...it couldn't go on for much longer, not now that five other people had lost their loved ones too him.


	3. Late Night Visitor

**So I know I've been pretty silent on here up until now but I've been trying to get everything sorted since I'm sort of new. Thanks to everyone who read the first two chapters, and for the follow! Please review to let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters involved in this story. But god damn I wish I had Christopher Nolan's brain.**

* * *

Harley reached home after another long day. Her eyes were stinging she was so sleep deprived and could barely gather the energy to pick her feet up the steps of the apartment building. Crane had been extra stubborn today, which she hadn't even thought was possible, and she'd been assigned a new case for some crazy they just signed in who had murdered a friend after a series of delusions. In those cases it was easy to pity the patient because it wasn't their fault, it was the fault of the level of neurotransmitters running through their brain. Where as people like the Joker, he seemed to be a money hungry psycho who didn't let anyone get in his way. But that was only Harley's diagnoses. The music from next door was playing loudly, filling the hallway with the sounds of obnoxious rap and causing her to roll her eyes as she pulled the keys from her purse. Once Harley got to the door however, her feet automatically stopped dead as her eyes met the small crack of light where the door was opened slightly. Harley had been in a slight daze this morning when she left for work in the early hours, since it was only her fourth day back on the job, but surely it wasn't so bad that she had forgot to shut, never mind lock the front door. No one left their doors unlocked in this city, people were even scared to crack a window open due to the recent events. But the lock looked to be untouched and as she stood, straining her ears, the apartment seemed to be silent. Without thinking any further, Harley raised her hand and pushed against the door making it swing open slowly. Peering through cautiously, there wasn't any damage nor was there any item out of place. Everything was as she left it to be this morning, even the dressing robe was sprawled across the back of the dining chair where she had thrown it this morning in a hurry. But something wasn't right in her head, there was something off. The light in the living room caught Harley's attention but she dismissed it, she always left it on since it was dark when she came home and hated coming back to a dark apartment alone. Waiting for another few seconds and ignoring the rational voice in her head screaming to call the cops or her dad at least, she stepped into the apartment. It was like in the movies when someone presses the big red button and the explosion never goes off because when Harley's heel hit the wood floor of the front dining room everything stayed as it was. This caused her to relax a little and she released a sigh of relief before stepping forward again and closing the door behind her, leaving it unlocked just in case.

"Hello?" Harley squeaked awkwardly. What the hell was she doing? No robber ever responded to 'hello'.  
"If anything just alarmed them that you were home, Harleen.' She scolded herself and then took another step forward. From walking into the apartment, Harley entered the kitchen and dining area and then glanced down the narrow hallway leading too her own and the guest bedrooms. All was clear. Then she approached the double doors which led into the living room, straight from the dining room. Through the frosted glass she could see the light but now Harley thought back, she never closed the doors. Pressing her palm against the door handle, she pushed down and opened the door. As her eyes focused, keen to search the room, she didn't have a chance to spot anything as a large hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, pulling her into the room and swinging her around so her back crashed against a hard chest. Harley tried to scream after letting out a yelp of surprise, but the same hand crushed her lips, silencing her. Suddenly everything became a blur, her eyes were dizzy from the sudden movement and shock bolted through Harley.  
"Harleen, we were wondering when you'd show up." A smooth voice spoke up after a second or so and her eyes were suddenly awake, jolting around the room until they settled on a middle aged man sitting comfortably in her arm chair. She tried to scream again but it was muffled as the guy chuckled and snapped his fingers. Following this, five men all dressed in sharp, expensive looking suits filed into the room from from the direction of the bedroom and blocked the doorway. The only thoughts going through her head was what the hell is going on? Wo were these men? She hadn't seen any of them before? We're they robbers? On second thought they looked like business men...mob guys. She almost fell towards the ground when the chunk of mean gripping Harley walked forward towards the guy sitting, dragging Harley with him. "Put her down on the couch." He ordered and within the blink of an eye, Harley was thrown down. Too scared to make another noise, it was one against seven, so she sat silent. "Good, you scream and Boxxy over there will give you something to scream about." The same guy spoke and Harley only just managed to nod.  
"Wh-Who..." She started to whisper but stuttered out of fear and stopped.  
"Who are we? You'll find that out soon enough sweetheart." The guy chuckled and sat back in the arm chair. Harley looked over his appearance now she had settled and her eyes were able to focus. Now he was closer, he looked older than Harley first thought shown by the spots of grey covering segments of his hair. "For now, we want to talk a little about you."  
"About me?" She squeaked, and she'd be the first to admit that she already sounded defeated.  
"Yes." He smirked and sat forward a little and linked his hands together, resting the on his knees. "Dr Harleen Quinzel if I believe. Daughter of Officer Don Quinzel." The guy started and raked his eyes up and down her body, making Harley squirm in her seat and cross her legs. "A psychiatrist at the Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane...and at only 24 years old." After stating this he became quiet and tilted his head slightly to the side so Harley took this as her cue to speak.  
"Yes, that's me. But I only became a doctor a few months ago, before that I was simply an intern." She rushed out in a panic.  
"Really? Well I heard you were one of the best they have." The guy grinned, but it wasn't a nice grin it was the sort that made a persons stomach twist. "A real...understanding young woman."  
"But...what does that have todo with you? Why are you here?" The doctor was becoming so confused that her curiosity was defying her fear.  
"I'm here, Harleen...to propose an offer." The guy looked towards the guys lining the door very quickly before looking back to Harley. "You see, a few of my men have been signed into Arkham for treatment after being caught carrying out some...psychotic behaviour." He said with a chuckle. This guy had men in Arkham?  
"Who are these men?" Harley gasped.  
"Just a few of my employees." He smiled calmly. "But with them in there, I have no way of contacting them you see and sometimes...I can get a lot of dirt from the freaks being stored away inside that place. So..." He trailed off and once again flashed his eyes down towards her chest where the buttons of her blouse were left tastefully undone. "I thought maybe you could be of use to me."  
"I don't understand." She frowned and for the first time, noticed her hand shaking with nerves.  
"Listen, you're a smart girl Harleen. I want you to get some information from my men, talk to them, give them a a little therapy and report back to me. In time, I then want to to release them with a clean bill of health."  
"I...I can't do that. It's against the rules of the asylum never mind the law." Harley spluttered.  
"You can and you will Dr Quinzel, otherwise there's a very good chance your mother won't be the only one six feet under...and you don't want to become an orphan do you?" The guy narrowed his eyes and then nodded to one of his men who handed him a small piece of note paper. "1578 Bellwood Street, rings a bell doesn't it."  
"My father." She whispered, that was their...his address.  
"We've been keeping a close eyes on you over the past few weeks Harleen, I'm sorry to hear about your mother." He seemed to be smirking as he said this and it made her blood boil. "But you seem like a good kid who plays by the rules, so you stick to mine and no one gets hurt okay?"  
"But...why me?" She asked, eyes darting around the room as if searching for some sort of answer.  
"Because I know I can trust you, and I know you'll do a good job." The guy smiled, kindly this time and leant forward to place his hand on her knee, gripping it so Harley couldn't shake it off. "Now...do we have a deal?" The guy out stretched his hand towards Harley and she glanced down at it wearily before looking back to his face. He looked so sure of himself, the complete opposite to how she was feeling like now. If Harley did this, there would be a strong possibility of her loosing her job, but if she didn't she would loose everything including her family. She had no choice, there was no way to go but forward.  
"Who are you?" Harley asked instead of giving him an answer like he wanted.  
"Salvatore Maroni, at your service." He laughed. So this was Sal Maroni, she'd heard his name floating around Arkham from the inmates, he was the head mob boss after the fall of Carmine Falcone who now held residency at Arkham. "So...for the last time sweetheart...deal?" What else was there to say but yes?  
"Yes..deal." She crumbled and then watched his slimy grin return.  
"Good choice, but I'll be keeping this just incase." Maroni said as he tucked the piece of paper holding her fathers address into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. "As for the arrangement, tomorrow I want you to speak to an inmate going by the name of Alan Judd, tell him I sent you and remember what he speaks of. Tomorrow night, you'll get a call and it will tell you when and where to report." Sal looked at Harley expectantly and she nodded in understanding, talk to a guy, remember what he says, that was easy enough. "I knew you were a good girl Harleen." Harley wanted to comment on how it was a result of the blackmail but fear for what would happen kept her mouth shut as Maroni stood and nodded to his men. "I think that clears everything up here then, have a nice night Dr Quinzel, I'll keep in touch." He winked at Harley finally and exited the apartment first, closely followed by the smartly dressed men. By the time they shut the apartment door behind them calmly, the first tear had appeared and was rolling down her cheek. What just happened? Did that really just happen or was this just some sort of trick her mind was playing on her, like a hallucination?  
'I have been stressed lately and...oh who was I kidding? Of course it was real...but it was so hard to believe. I worked for the mob now?' Harley thought to herself. Technically she didn't work for them because they weren't paying her, but she was being blackmailed by them, by the head boss. And Harley had to correspond otherwise they'd do something to the only person she had left in this world...this was a joke...a big joke! They couldn't seriously expect her to become a middle man for them, but that's what she had just agreed to do.

The next day, Harley crept down the hallway of the low security ward in Arkham while attempting to appear as if she was normally going about her everyday rounds of checks and duties. She had just spent a hand morning, convincing Dr Arkham to sign over patient Alan Judd into her care for the plain reason she had a lot of spare time only treating three patients currently. He accepted at the end of it, to Harley's relief but had looked peeved as Harley fled the room. so phase one phase one was down, only the interview and the report to go. Having just finished a session with Dr Crane, before returning to her office she took a detour to the lowest floor of the asylum in search of Mr Judd's cell. Multiple wolf whistles sounded as Harley passed the tiny barred windows of the cell but let them go as after a year, every female doctor and nurse got used to them as they walked by. But at the end of the hallway she finally laid eyes on the correct name slate of the door and stepped closer to peer inside the cell. The man, who she guessed was Alan Judd, laid on the cot in the cell with his back to the wall. He looked like the mob type with long black hair, probably gelled back when on the job, and a strong build. The guy looked young too, in his twenties but there was a scar under his left eye, only small but clear in the small light Harley was supplied with.  
"Excuse me, Mr Judd?" She couldn't believe she was doing this, if anyone overheard her shed be fired...her reputation would be ruined.  
"What now?" The guy groaned and moved his eyes so they studied Harley's face. "Can I not get one moment away from you so called doctors?"  
"I'm sorry Mr Judd." She squeaked, not wanting to anger him before she'd even begun. "I'm hear on behalf of Salvatore Maroni." This was the worst thing she could be doing concerning her career, but she could at least continue to be professional as she carried put the job at hand.  
"Maroni?" Alan frowned, watching Harley for another second before standing from the bed and walking over to the cell door. Stretching his arms so they leant against either side of the metal door, he put his face to the bars near Harleen's. "He really does run this city huh?" He laughed to himself as he nodded his head. "What does he have to say?"  
"He just asked me to speak to you and remember what you told me." Harley whispered as her eyes dropped to the floor. "There wasn't a particular topic I don't think. But he mentioned wanting information from inside Arkham."  
"Information?" Alan repeated. "Alright...then tell the boss the food is shit and so is the company." With a wink, Harley snarled and rolled her eyes.  
"I haven't got time for this, tell me what he wants to know so I can get back to work."  
"Alright, calm down sweet cheeks. Residency is easy to cope with, theres is minimum danger. Cardle is getting out this Monday morning, 10am, he'll be reporting at 12pm sharp." As Judd spilled the details, Harleen desperately tried to make note of them all in her head, using the same techniques she used during revision for her final exams in college.  
"Alright? What else?" She asked, nodding her head for him to go on.  
"I think that's all for today Dr...Quinzel." He sneered, reading her name badge.  
"Okay." It had been easy...so much so that she thought it was too easy to be true. Then again it was only the beginning. "I'll leave you to yourself then Mr Judd, but I must inform you that from now on I will be your therapist."  
"Really now?" This seemed to perk Alan's interest and he stood talked while still facing Harley. "In that case, tell the boss I'll be seeing him soon."


End file.
